


Very Interesting

by Aleakim



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Scents & Smells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 21:33:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15179849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleakim/pseuds/Aleakim
Summary: -“Get out with it, Merlin!” Arthur urges before taking a big gulp out of his cup. “I don't have all day.”“It's not really of import –”“Oh come on, humour me, Merlin.”“Honestly, sire …”“There's clearly something on your mind, I can see it in your eyes. So out with it!”“Did you sleep in my bed last night?”-





	Very Interesting

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing about our favourite idiots in love xDD
> 
> -

“Arthur?”

“Yes, Merlin?”

“Um …”

Merlin pauses as he studies the man in front of him. Arthur looks unfairly gorgeous for someone who just rolled out of bed mere minutes ago and immediately staggered toward his breakfast tray, obviously on the verge of utter starvation, not giving one single thought about appearances or proper attire in the company of his manservant. He didn't even bother to put on a tunic and Merlin is seriously close to losing his mind while he finds himself watching entranced how Arthur's muscles flex in the broad light of the morning sun.

“Merlin?” Arthur prompts after a while of almost deafening silence, rising his eyebrow at his servant. “You were saying?”

Merlin blinks a few times.

He was saying something?

Oh right.

“I was just wondering …” Merlin licks his lips, blaming his equally sleep-deprived and distracted brain for even opening his mouth in the first place. “Well …”

“Get out with it, Merlin!” Arthur urges before taking a big gulp out of his cup. “I don't have all day.”

“It's not really of import –”

“Oh come on, humour me, Merlin.”

“Honestly, sire …”

“There's clearly something on your mind, I can see it in your eyes. So out with it!”

“Did you sleep in my bed last night?”

Arthur's complete body seems to come to a sudden halt at those blurted words, looking like the epitome of a beautiful and artistically perfect stone statue frozen in time.

(Well, apart from the fact that he appears a bit daft with his mouth hanging wide open, just about ready to enjoy some sausage before Merlin lost any sense of sensibility.)

Bloody hell!

Merlin freezes as well and immediately clamps his mouth shut after the treacherous words found their way out into the open without his permission. The thoughts in his head are somersaulting like crazy, almost making him dizzy, and once again he curses his reckless blabbermouth for taking actions into its own hands and making a bad situation even worse.

It's actually close to a miracle that he hasn't confessed his magic yet by accident.

However, it's probably just a matter of time.

“What are you saying, Merlin?” Arthur eventually drawls. There are not that many emotions on his features to work with and although Merlin knows him for years now, that prat is sometimes ridiculously hard to read. “Are you implying –?”

Merlin snaps to attention right away. “I didn't mean _last night_ ,” he's quick to reassure. “Obviously. Because I was sleeping in my bed last night and you weren't there with me, so no _last night_ in the sense of _last night_ …”

And then, of course, he starts to blush as he involuntarily pictures Arthur sharing his bed with him and the King lifts his brows like he knows exactly what his manservant is thinking.

“I just meant …” Merlin sighs deeply, searching desperately in that wild place which used to be his mind a marginally appropriate and not entirely poorly worded explanation that would get him out of the situation alive. “Did you sleep in my bed sometime yesterday? When I wasn't around? Obviously.”

Arthur's expression is still difficult to decipher, but Merlin believes he's seeing the beginning of an amused smile.

“And what makes you say that?” Arthur wonders. “Why would the King of Camelot sleep in your lumpy little bed?”

It's a fairly good question, Merlin has to give him that.

But at the same time he wasn't imagining things yesterday.

“My pillow – it smelled like you,” Merlin states while trying to hold Arthur's gaze without flushing once more. “Like you rested your big, royal head on it.”

It's been a surprise, that's for sure. Merlin didn't know what to think about it first, wondering for a long time what it might mean. At some point he even felt tempted to get up again and ask Arthur about it instantly, no matter the time of night, but in the end he was way too comfortable to leave, inhaled the scent he grew so familiar with instead and slept better than he had in months, maybe even _years_.

Which is of course something he won't _ever_ mention.

Especially in the presence of entitled dollop-heads.

Meanwhile, Arthur began to scrutinize him closely, his face still an unbreakable mask, before eventually the corners of his mouth start to tug upwards.

“Well, yes,” he says, a chuckle in his voice. “I indeed laid in your bed for a moment. I totally forgot about that.”

Something in his tone makes Merlin believe that he's not entirely truthful about that.

“And _why_ were you in my bed?” he asks through gritted teeth. He pictures Arthur splaying on his sheets as if he were claiming new territory, all arrogant and possessive, and it _does not_ make Merlin's mouth dry.

It _does not_.

“I don't owe you an explanation, Merlin.” Arthur scoffs as though the mere suggestion is absolutely ridiculous. “I'm the King of Camelot as you seem so conveniently to forget all the time. If I want to lie down in your bed, I simply do it.”

Merlin narrows his eyes. “There are things like _privacy_ –”

Arthur cuts him off by laughing so loudly Merlin can't help his flinch. “Seriously? Do you think I don't know that you're taking naps in _my_ bed constantly?”

Merlin fights back a blush and probably fails miserably. “I don't know –”

“Oh please,” Arthur waves him off, amused. “I can smell you, too, you see? Since you tend to sleep on my _clean_ sheets and not on the ones that have to go to laundry anyway.”

Merlin chews on his lip. He knew it would come back to him eventually, but Arthur's bed is _so_ damned comfortable and his soap smells _so_ nice …

And well, Merlin actually _does_ sometimes nap on Arthur's used sheets, inhaling his prattish wonderful scent, before bringing them to the laundresses. But thankfully the King doesn't seem to have caught up on that yet.

And Merlin will make sure it stays that way.

“So you don't have any place to complain here,” Arthur continues. “I waited in Gaius' quarters for you to come back and I got bored and lied down for a few minutes. That's the whole story.”

It actually sounds innocent enough.

Apart from the fact that Arthur blatantly strode into Merlin's room and declared it his property for the time being.

But what can you do when you're faced with the King of Camelot who isn't tired of mentioning that fact every other minute?

“And it was sincerely just a couple of minutes,” Arthur promises. “Your bed is highly uncomfortable. I should seriously get you a new one. It's a bloody miracle that your muscles aren't sore all the time.”

They actually are, thanks to his hard bed, the countless chores Arthur dumps on him and the vicious magic attacks Merlin has to face on a regular basis, most of them unbeknownst to Arthur, but Merlin won't start complaining now. He would never stop.

“It's interesting though,” Arthur suddenly states, almost sounding pleased.

Merlin licks his bottom lip. “What is?”

Arthur rises from his chair and steps closer toward Merlin, ignoring every single rule about personal space ever invented. Merlin can feel Arthur's breath touching his skin and his heartbeat picks up its pace promptly.

And then that bastard even leans forward and whispers into Merlin's ear, “It's very interesting that you're able to recognize my smell although I only lay onto your bed for such a short amount of time.”

Merlin swallows and doesn't know what to say to this.

 _What_ are you supposed to say to this?

Arthur, however, seems to enjoy himself. “It's _very_ interesting.”

Merlin swallows, wondering whether his heart might jump out of his chest any second now.

“It's … it's not _that_ wondrous,” he eventually manages. “I'm washing your stinking socks after all. I know your scent by now.”

Arthur doesn't appear impressed by that. “The smell on your pillow must have been faint by then nonetheless. Barely non-existent at that point. And _yet_ –” he grins widely, “– yet you noticed it.”

Merlin shuts his eyes for a moment and inhales deeply, only to regret it almost instantly because he's surrounded by so much _Arthur_.

“Well … _you've_ noticed my smell, too,” Merlin argues. “And I know I'm not roses and fresh spring air –”

“I never said it's a bad smell,” Arthur interrupts, a certain earnestness in his tone now. “Quite on the contrary, I always enjoy it.”

Merlin chokes on nothing as he looks at Arthur who is somehow standing even closer than before. “You … you do?”

Arthur smiles. “I always have the best night sleep when my pillow smells like you.”

Merlin's eyes widen at the confession.

 _Now_ he seriously doesn't know what to say!

Damn.

“So yes, the whole thing …” Arthur's breath skids over Merlin's skin, making his knees become dangerously weak in the process. “It is _very_ interesting.”

Merlin can't really contradict here.

It is fairly interesting indeed.

 


End file.
